


Utmost Bliss

by bisexualcyborg



Category: Penny Dreadful (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Begging, Couch Sex, Ethan being a shameless bottom, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Rimming, and the rimming, so much with the begging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-22
Updated: 2015-04-22
Packaged: 2018-03-25 07:44:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3802384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bisexualcyborg/pseuds/bisexualcyborg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My take on the post-episode 4 sexytimes we got so unfairly robbed of. Basically, if the idea of Ethan on his knees over the back of a couch while Dorian rims and fucks the living daylights out of him appeals to you, you have found the right fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Utmost Bliss

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: blink-and-you'll-miss-it allusion to torture.  
> As ever, all my thanks to [Freddie](http://archiveofourown.org/users/221brosiewilde/pseuds/221brosiewilde) for the beta and the much-needed US-picking.

Gray’s fingers were light but determined as they trailed over Ethan’s shoulders, along his collarbones, down his chest. Wagner was still playing loud enough to almost drown out the pounding of Ethan’s heart. Gray had been right; Ethan did know Wagner – but he didn’t want to think about him. Not now. He pushed back the memories and concentrated on Gray’s face. 

He was looking up at Ethan with a small, soft smile. There was vulnerability in his eyes, but something else too, something very intense that made a shiver shoot up Ethan’s spine. 

Isolde’s voice softened, the aria drawing to a close. Ethan reached out again, placed a hand on the back of Gray’s head, his thumb stroking over the soft hair at the nape of his neck.

“You really want this, then,” Gray said. It wasn’t a question so Ethan didn’t answer. He leaned in for another kiss, gentle this time, as gentle as Gray had been when he kissed Ethan back. He wanted to make up for the first one; passion was one thing, but violence was something else entirely, and Ethan was pretty sure that kiss had crossed the line.

“Shall we take this to the bedroom?” Ethan asked. He was still close enough to feel Gray’s warm breath against his lips. 

“I think not.” 

Ethan took a step back in surprise. Had he misinterpreted Gray’s intentions so badly?

But Gray gripped his hip and pulled him closer again. “There’s a perfectly serviceable couch in here. The bedroom is much too far away, and I, for one,” his hand glided over Ethan’s hip, to his arse, and gave it a bold squeeze, “don’t feel like waiting.”

Ethan grinned. It was strangely flattering, to have someone like Gray – who could get whoever wanted – want him badly enough that a trip up the stairs seemed insurmountable. 

“Whatever you prefer, Mr Gray,” he said, and Gray’s eyebrows rose in – was that delight? It definitely looked like it.

Gray moved his hand to the small of Ethan’s back – still just a tad too low to be considered fully appropriate – and gestured with his free hand. “Shall we, then?”

Ethan nodded and let himself be lead across the room to a plush, dark brown couch.

With one hand on his hip and the other on his shoulder, Gray twisted Ethan around and pushed him down onto the couch. Ethan’s heart was suddenly beating faster. There was something incredibly arousing about being manhandled like this, especially by someone as frail as Dorian.

Ethan could readily admit that to himself, but not to Gray, not just yet. So he spread his arms over the backrest of the couch and looked up at Dorian with his cockiest smirk. Dorian smirked back, crooked and teasing, and straddled Ethan’s thighs. He leaned forward and ran a hand through Ethan’s hair, pushing it back.

“You’re not fooling anyone, Mr Chandler.” Dorian’s breath was warm against the shell of Ethan’s ear, sending tingles down his lower back. 

Ethan wanted to react, wanted to tell Gray that they both knew this was part of the game, but then Gray’s teeth closed around his earlobe and Ethan’s admonishment was lost in a soft moan. 

“Do you want me?” Gray asked him.

Ethan hesitated. What would Brona say about this? He hadn’t discussed this with her, he didn’t – with a jolt, he realised that Brona didn’t have anything to say about this anymore, didn’t _want_ to have anything to say about it. Ignoring the twinge of hurt in his chest, he pushed all thoughts of Brona away.

“Fuck, yes,” he told Gray. His voice sounded low and growly to his own ears.

Gray chuckled, smug, and dragged his mouth down along the line of Ethan’s jaw, Ethan’s stubble rasping audibly against the soft skin of his lips. He stopped for a moment at the corner of Ethan’s mouth, then travelled down to his throat. His teeth dug lightly into the line of raised muscle there, and Ethan’s hands shot up to cling to the back of Gray’s head.

Gray moved lower still, kissing along Ethan’s collarbone, then to his breastbone. He pinched Ethan’s nipple between thumb and forefinger, making Ethan hiss and drop his hands to Gray’s shoulder, digging his nails into silky skin. Gray moaned against Ethan’s chest – well, well, decidedly a versatile man.

Gray slid elegantly off Ethan’s lap and knelt on the floor between Ethan’s spread thighs. His fringe flopped onto his forehead and his long fingers fanned suggestively on Ethan’s trousers.

“You’re a pretty sight,” Ethan told him.

Grey looked up at him through his eyelashes and bent forward teasingly. His lips stretched in a fetching O, he blew a gust of warm air on the tented fabric over Ethan’s hard cock. 

Ethan gave a breathy moan and Gray instantly pulled back.

“Stand up, Mr Chandler.”

Oh, so they’d gotten to the orders part, had they? Excellent. Ethan obediently stood up from the couch. 

It should have felt powerful, towering over a kneeling man like this, but it didn’t. Not at all. Gray looked utterly in control, and Ethan felt completely at his mercy.

With nimble fingers, Gray unfastened Ethan’s flies and pulled his trousers down, revealing his lack of underwear.

Grey raised an eyebrow. “Is this how they do it in America?”

“This is how I do it,” Ethan answered, stepping out of his trousers.

Gray smirked up at him, and then his gaze hardened. “I want you kneeling on the couch, with your back to me.”

Ethan had always prided himself on his lack of sexual shame, but he couldn't help feeling a bit self-conscious when he turned around and knelt on the couch. He was completely exposed, his arse level with Gray's face.

Gray cupped Ethan's arse with both hands, kneading and caressing, then spread his cheeks apart. Warm breath blew over Ethan's arsehole, and a shiver ran through his entire body. There was no doubt about what Gray was about to do. Ethan suddenly became very conscious that his cock was rock hard. His breathing grew shallow in anticipation.

"May I?" Gray sounded so utterly composed that Ethan would have been offended if he hadn't been too busy trying not to grip the back of the couch so hard it would break.

"Please," he answered, voice strangled and desperate.

"Begging already?" Gray teased, sounding smug. "I haven't even started yet."

"Yeah, that's the point." Ethan growled. "Fucking get to it."

"If you insist."

Gray pressed his lips to the base of Ethan’s spine in a wet, lingering kiss. Ethan shivered violently. Gray moved downwards, nipping and licking at Ethan’s flesh. When his mouth closed over Ethan’s arsehole, Ethan groaned out loud. 

Gray’s tongue licked at his hole, first with gentle lapping motions, then probing insistently, sending jolts of pleasure straight to Ethan’s cock. Fuck, that felt _amazing_. Ethan dug his teeth into his forearm, trying to muffle his embarrassingly helpless moans.

Gray pulled back. “Don’t. I want to hear you.”

“You’re an asshole,” Ethan growled, still biting down on his arm. He breathed in through his nose and unclenched his jaw. There were teeth marks in his skin.

Gray stroked his thigh. “Good boy.” 

A small, breathy moan escaped Ethan at the words. Mortified, he dropped his forehead onto his crossed arms.

Gray’s fringe brushed against Ethan’s arse as he bent his head again to lick at his hole. This time, Ethan’s moan echoed loudly in the room. Ethan suspected the bastard of having created the optimal acoustic for this reason alone – the fancy opera music was probably just an excuse.

Prodding and probing, Gray opened Ethan up, licking inside him. Panting, Ethan lifted his right hand from backrest to grip his hair. He pulled at it hard, trying to distract himself from the heat pooling in his lower stomach. He didn’t think he was able to reach orgasm without touching his cock, but _fuck_ , if it was ever going to happen, it had to be now.

Gray curled his tongue inside him and Ethan _shouted_ , pushing his arse back into him. He made as if to cover his mouth, then realised what he was doing and settled for digging his nails into his own chest, right beneath his collarbones.

He felt more than heard Gray laughing at him, the vibrations against his sensitive flesh making his entire body tingle.

“You son of a bitch,” he hissed through clenched teeth. His unsteady voice conveyed no sting at all.

Gray cupped Ethan’s balls, fondling and caressing with long, knowing fingers. He ran the point of his tongue along the stretched rim of Ethan’s arsehole, and Ethan clenched his eyelids so hard he saw stars.

“Please,” he panted, utterly unashamed of how desperate he sounded, “ _please_.”

“Please what?” Gray’s voice was a smug drawl and Ethan _didn’t care_ , as long as he kept _doing something_. “What do you want?”

“I need more. I need - _fuck_ ,” Ethan shouted as Gray’s fingers tightened around his balls. “I need you to fuck me. Please.”

“Well, since you asked so nicely.” 

Ethan was too busy trying to catch his breath to look behind him, but there was the sound of a glass jar being opened on his right, and then Gray’s cold, slick fingers pressed against his arsehole. 

Two fingers pushed inside him easily, the slow, delicious drag making Ethan groan in the back of his throat. Gray took his time, spreading and crooking his fingers, seeming to purposefully avoid the spot that would have made Ethan scream. Finally, when Ethan was on the brink of begging again, Gray added a third finger and curled his fingers as he pulled out slightly. He hit the little bundle of nerves dead on, and Ethan did indeed scream. 

“Come on,” he said, “please, I’m ready, I want your cock inside me.” 

Gray pushed his fingers deep inside Ethan, and Ethan bucked on his hand. “I’ll decide when you’re ready.” 

Ethan whined quietly and bowed his head. He wasn’t entirely sure whether he was more disappointed or turned on about Gray making him wait. 

Gray, however, was apparently not as unaffected as he pretended to be, because it wasn’t long before he pulled his fingers out. The jar clinked again, and then there was the unmistakable sound of slick skin against skin as Gray spread the lubricant over his cock. 

Ethan spread his thighs a bit wider and pushed his arse back enticingly. 

“Eager,” Gray teased. 

“You have _no_ idea.” 

“On the contrary, I think I do,” Gray answered, and oh, that was strangely flattering. 

Gray dragged the head of his cock between the cheeks of Ethan’s arse, pressed it against his hole, then stopped moving. Oh, so he wanted Ethan to ask for it, did he? He’d get better than asking. 

Ethan pushed back slightly against Gray’s cock, not far enough to take him inside him but hard enough that the pressure went from just teasing to very tempting. 

“Fuck me,” he moaned, “I want you inside me, come on, fuck me.” 

Behind him, Gray sighed luxuriously. “You’re good at begging. Had lots of practice?” 

For half a moment, Ethan remembered a dark cellar, the smell of piss, chains around his wrists and ankles, footsteps coming down the stairs. Brona, he thought, and then no, not Brona, other lovers he’d had on the road, times when begging had been fun, times like now. His breathing evened out, and he managed to make his answer sound more or less composed. 

“You have _no_ idea.” 

Some residual fear must have shone through in his voice though, because Gray went completely still, and then softly caressed Ethan’s hair. 

“Do you still want this?” he asked gently. 

The idiot. As if this was the time to be noble. 

“After all the begging I did? If you don’t fuck me right this instant I swear what that dog did to those rats back there will seem peaceful in comparison to what I’ll do to you.” 

“How violent, Mr Chandler.” Ethan had expected laughter, some shock, maybe – not the approval he heard in Gray’s voice. The man was decidedly strange. 

“You have no idea,” he repeated. 

“You’ll have to show me sometime.” 

Gray gripped his hips and pushed in in one slow, smooth movement, and Ethan was suddenly unable to remember what he’d meant to answer him. The stretch was delicious and just the right side of painful. Ethan groaned, feeling full and owned and _glorious_. 

He pushed back against Gray, who got the hint and started moving. Fuck, but he was _good_. He hit that spot on almost every stroke, tearing short, ragged cries from Ethan’s throat. 

Ethan wasn’t going to last. The smooth, slick slide of Gray inside him, the luxurious fabric of his trousers against Ethan’s naked thighs, his nails digging into his hips so hard that they were definitely leaving marks, maybe even drawing blood – every sensation seemed to exacerbate the pleasure building inside him. 

Desperate for relief, he snuck his hand between the couch and his body – but before his fingers could even brush against his cock, a hard slap across his thigh stilled his movement. 

“None of that, pet.” Through the blood pounding in his ears – why did being called that turn him on to this extent? – Ethan was proud to notice that Gray sounded decidedly breathless. “That’s my job.” 

Ethan brought his hand back to the backrest and gripped it, feeling the wood structure give way beneath his fingers. He held on tight as Gray kept pounding into him. Gray was a quiet sort of lover, his high, breathy moans only mingling occasionally with Ethan’s frequent groans and cries. 

“Touch me,” Ethan pleaded, “please, _please_ , I want – “ 

Gray took his hand off Ethan’s hip and reached around to curl his fingers around Ethan’s cock. Ethan’s voice died in his throat. Gray stroked him quickly, his hand a counterpoint to the snapping of his hips. 

“Come on, Mr Chandler,” he whispered in Ethan’s ear, “go on, pet.” 

Ethan threw his head back with a deep drawn-out groan, pleasure flooding him as he ejaculated all over the luxurious couch. Gray fucked him through his orgasm without slowing down , but then his hips suddenly went still. He breathed out a small, almost inaudible “Oh,” and dropped his head against Ethan’s shoulder. 

Panting, Ethan slumped over the back of the couch. His grip hadn’t actually broken the wood, but it wouldn’t stand another session like this one. Ethan giggled to himself, oddly proud. 

He winced as Gray pulled out and rolled his shoulders, stretching his strained muscles. Gray sat down on the couch and guided Ethan to lie down, curled up so that his head was lying in Gray’s lap. 

If he didn’t move, Ethan was going to fall asleep on this couch. He mumbled “I should get going,” but Gray snorted disbelievingly. 

“Do you even have anywhere to go?” 

Ethan’s eyes opened with a jolt. No, he didn’t. Except maybe Miss Ives’s house, but he didn’t exactly feel like showing up there in the middle of the night and explaining what brought him there. 

“Good point,” he admitted. 

Gray ran a hand through Ethan’s hair, pushing it behind his ear. “You’re welcome to stay the night.” 

That was more kindness than Ethan had expected, but he wasn’t about to refuse. 

“In an actual bed, you mean?” 

Gray actually laughed at that. “If you can get to the bedroom, yes.” 

“In a minute,” Ethan said, and promptly dozed off. 

**Author's Note:**

> I actually spent an hour researching 19th Century condoms for this fic. Apparently, rubber condoms were used in America as early as the 1850’s, and before that, people often used animal’s bowels. But then I realised that we’ve never seen Ethan or Dorian use any condoms (and Dorian would totes have access to the fancy new rubber ones) and I decided that this was somehow an important part of their characterisation – they both had sex with a consumptive prostitute, I’m pretty sure they’re not too worried about STI’s. Dorian is probably physically unable to catch any kind of illness, and odds are the lycanthropy protects Ethan too – and if it doesn’t, it’s the self-loathing that pushes him to be so careless about himself and come on, isn’t that fun to think about?


End file.
